Crashing
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: It can tear your soul apart
1. Chapter 1

I feel the bed shake and wake with a start; I didn't even realize I'd drifted off. It takes me half a second to realize that my wife's sobs are what's causing the bed to move. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her head to my shoulder.

I don't tell her to "Shhh," I don't tell her everything will all right; all I do is hold her and let her cry as her tears soak through my t-shirt.

I rock her back and forth, hoping to be of some comfort. "I'm sorry," I finally whisper, my voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry."

I feel her shake her head against my neck. "It's not your fault," she whispers, and even though I don't believe her, I know she means it.

"It's not your fault, either," I tell her, and I feel sobs convulse through her body again.

"Why did this happen to us?" she asks, her breath hitching as she tries to regain some control.

I have no answer for her, though. I don't know why.

"We'll figure this out," I whisper in to her hair. "We will."

It's only been a few hours since the doctor called to let us know that we'd probably never be able to make a baby together; I'm still sick thinking about it. Monica has wanted a baby her entire life and now, because of me, she might never get that.

God damn it.

All I want is to be able to give her a baby. That's not asking so much from the world. People get pregnant by accident all the time, people who aren't ready, who don't want it, whatever, and here are two people who have been trying for a year to make this happen, who want it more than anything…and nothing.

I don't think I realized how much I wanted it until I found out we might never have it.

That's not completely true; I only really want a baby with her. I wouldn't want a family with anyone else.

She crawls in to my lap, limbs twining around me, and we hold each other close. Nothing has ever hurt like this.

"I should have known something was wrong," she says softly, sniffling.

"How could you possibly?"

"We've been together for five years, Chandler—not one pregnancy scare. Think about it."

I want to contradict her, tell her that it's not true, but…she's right. Not once did we sit in fear as we stared at a pregnancy test, anxious for the results. "I never thought about it," I breathe.

"I didn't either. I just thought I was really meticulous about everything, and that we were really lucky." Her body starts to shake with tears again. "Not so lucky, huh? Turns out I can't even have a baby."

"Oh, Monica. Dr. Connelly didn't say you couldn't have a baby. It's just going to be really hard for us to conceive. It _could_ happen."

"Yeah, right," she scoffs.

"Hey." I pull back a little, gently hold her face in my hands. I've never seen her look so lost or broken; I feel my heart shatter into a million more pieces. "You always win, remember? If you want a baby, we'll have a baby."

She gives me a watery chuckle, but the smile never reaches her eyes. "I don't think it actually works that way when it comes to fertility."

I kiss her forehead, and wrap my arms around her once more. "We'll keep trying, okay?"

I feel her nod against me, but I can tell that, at least right now, her heart's not in it.

Mine isn't either, at the moment.

I just can't believe the world would do this to us—as if low motility or an inhospitable environment weren't bad enough on their own, we somehow managed to have both. What the hell are the odds?

"I'm just so, so sorry, Mon." I don't know what else to say at this point because nothing is going to make this better. "If you'd fallen in love with someone better, everything would be fine. You'd have a baby and—"

"Stop." She leans back and looks me in the eye, and for the first time in hours, I can see a bit of Monica's spirit. "This didn't just happen t me, okay? It's happening to us. _Us_, Chandler. _We_ can't have a baby, not just _me_. We promised to love each other for better and for worse; this will just have to be the part that's the 'worse.' But you're right—we _will_ figure it out. It's going to be horrible and painful, but we'll get through it." She leans forward and kisses me gently and I tighten my grip around her waist. "Chandler…you're so concerned about how this is affecting me, and I love you for it, but what about you?"

I look at her, startled. "What about me?"

"I can't give you a baby, either, and it's breaking my heart. You would be such a good father, and I can't…I won't be able…" She breaks in to fresh sobs, and I hold her tight, breathing deeply, fighting for control.

"I don't blame you for any of this, Monica. Don't ever think that."

"I just wanted to be able to have your baby. I've been dreaming about this for so long, and you've been so excited about it, and now…I might never be able to do this for you."

I feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I try to blink them back. I just want to be strong for my wife.

"It's okay to cry, Chandler; you can be upset about this. You don't need to be strong for me."

I bury my face in her neck, my head pounding from the strain, fighting it. I shake my head slightly.

"Mourn with me," she whispers in my ear and I feel the dam break. I weep into my wife's shoulder, my entire body shaking, pain like I've never felt before coursing through my veins.

Nothing in my life has hurt like this.

Monica grabs at me, her fingers digging in to my arms, her sobs mingling with mine.

We rock each other back and forth, trying to comfort each other, desperate for comfort of our own. Tears fall unending from our eyes. As much as I want to tell her that we'll get through this, that somehow, everything will be okay, I can't find the words right now.

Right now…it just hurts.

*A/N…I've had this little nugget floating around in my head for at least a month now, but haven't been able to bring myself to write it. It makes me sad thinking about it. But I don't think they ever really dealt with how this affected Chandler and Monica—they kind of glossed it over.


	2. Chapter 2

"Monica? Monica, have you heard a word I've said?"

I blink slowly, my mother coming in to focus across from me. I haven't been paying attention to her at all. "Sorry."

"Is everything all right?"

Even though everything is most definitely not all right, I shrug and nod.

She carries on, seemingly unconcerned about my distracted state. "So, Ross was telling me that Emma…"

I automatically tune her out again. Yes, I know about Emma. I know everything about my brother's beautiful accident; as it happens, I live across the hall from her. I see her every day. Why my mother would feel the need to tell me about my niece is beyond me.

Because it's about Ross, I tell myself. If it's Ross, it's vitally important, and also an opportunity to rub my face in whatever his latest achievement happens to be, whether it's real or perceived by mother. Because despite the fact that I have my dream job—a job I trained years for—and I've been happily married for almost two years to a guy that I've been with for five years, I'm somehow a failure. A disappointment.

I don't need to be reminded that my brother is able to knock up almost anyone he comes in contact with, and I can't fucking get pregnant with my husband.

Not that I resent Emma, or Ross and Rachel for that matter; I just don't need to be reminded by my mother that I'm still childless, and thus, a disappointment.

I bite the inside of cheek and take deep breaths, fighting back tears.

I don't know what possessed me to agree to lunch with this woman—nothing good ever comes of it. Though, I'm not really sure why she even called me. Maybe she figured it'd been a couple of months since she volunteered to spend time with her own daughter, so she'd put on a good show. It just figures she'd manage to pick the time when my life has turned in to a huge pile of garbage.

I suppose that, really, I'm the idiot because I agreed to meet her. It's only been a couple of days since Chandler and I got the news from our doctor; I have no idea why I thought I'd be strong enough for this sort of onslaught.

I tune in briefly when I hear my mother say, "Rachel told me…" and I immediately block her out again, focusing on pushing my food around on the plate. Yes, Mom, please tell me more about the daughter you never had. I grip my fork tightly; I can feel it digging in to my palm. Good. Maybe that will hurt more than this whole horrible excuse of a lunch date.

She probably wanted to meet with Ross, or even Rachel, but I'm sure they were too busy surpassing her expectations to have time today.

I have no doubt that I was mother's runner-up yet again.

I realize our table has gone silent so I look up; my mother is staring at me. "Seriously, Monica, is everything all right?"

"Of course, Mom, why do you ask?"

She places her hand on top of mine, and for the first time I realize that I'm shaking, my knuckles white with tension. Genuine concern clouds her eyes, taking me aback. I don't remember the last time she looked at me like that. I look back down at my plate, pulling my hand away. "Everything's fine," I assure her, my voice only cracking a little at the end.

"I don't believe you," she says softly.

I snort mirthlessly. "Oh yeah? And why's that?"

"Because you've never been a very good liar."

Inexplicably, I feel my blood boiling. I raise my head, looking at her incredulously, my nostrils actually flaring. "Well, you've never been a very good mother."

I see her eyes grow wide and I look down in shame. I can feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes; I bite the inside of my cheek again, hard enough this time to draw blood.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

I clench my left hand in my lap, nails digging in to my palm. I try to breathe deeply, but my breaths are starting to become rapid and I struggle not to break down. I feel nausea curling in the pit of my stomach. "Nothing's wrong," I mumble. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said that."

She remains silent, and I keep my head bowed. I can't look at her right now.

Eventually, I hear her chair scrape as she pushes back from the table and I give my head a little shake. As much as it hurts, I can't say I'm surprised that she's leaving. Between me sniping at her and the fact that she doesn't want to spend time with me anyway, it really isn't a shock.

I feel my chest constrict painfully—I just have to wait for her to walk out there door and then I can cry.

I jump when I feel her hand on my shoulder and she pulls her chair over to sit next to me. I look up at her, shocked—for what may be the first time in my life, I have my mother's full attention.

"Please, sweetheart. You can talk to me," she says softly, and a strangled noise makes its way out of my throat as I try to pull my shoulder out of her grasp.

"Yeah, except that I can't. I've never been able to talk to you. You've never wanted to hear about my problems. All you ever want to do is put me down."

"That's not—" I look up at her, daring her to finish that sentence. Surprisingly, her mouth closes, and I realize she must see the truth in that statement. "All I know is that right now, something has got my little girl more upset than I've ever seen her." I look away, staring out the diner's window, and feel her hand come up to stroke my hair. "Please…let me help." I shake my head, refusing to make eye contact.

"I should go," I say suddenly, reaching for my purse.

"Monica, please. Whatever's wrong, you're in no state to be driving right now."

"Fine," I mumble, as I slouch back in to my seat, even though I know she's right.

Surprisingly, she just sits next to me and waits. I try to will myself to calm down, desperate to get away from this disaster of a meal.

"Is it Chandler?" she asks suddenly. "Did something happen with him?"

I feel something inside of me start to come undone. I close my eyes and shake my head. "No," I whisper.

"Oh, sweetheart, what happened?"

"I just told you; nothing happened."

"Yes, but I know you're lying to me." I roll my eyes behind my lids; of all the times for my mother to catch on to my mood, she had to pick today. "Did he…cheat on you?"

I look at my mother, exasperated. "Of course he didn't. My husband loves me more than anything. He wouldn't do that." No; my husband is sitting at work right now, probably staring at a wall as he tries to deal with this, too. I feel my heart break just thinking about it, and all I want is to be able to hold him right now.

"Well, if it's not that—"

I feel myself snap. "You want to know what's wrong, Mom? Fine. Chandler and I have been trying for over a year to get pregnant and nothing has happened, so we went for fertility tests the other day, and it turns out that we'll probably never be able to have kids together." I feel a couple of tears slide down my cheeks and I swipe them away angrily. "So, I guess Ben and Emma might be the only grandchildren you ever get. I guess I've managed to disappoint you yet again. But, hey—you'll always have Ross, right? He'll always make you happy."

Her arms wrap around me and pull me close, holding me tightly. Before I can stop myself, I'm sobbing, my heart still in agony over this whole situation. This is the first time I've said it out loud to anyone other than Chandler, and the words sound so horrible, so final, so…real. I wrap my arms around my mother and bury my face in to her shoulder and cry.

"Oh, honey," she says softly, rocking me back and forth. "I'm so sorry. That's just horrible. Just…horrible."

I nod, another batch of tears rushing to the surface. "Horrible" isn't the right word for it, but I don't know if a better one exists at the moment.

"How is Chandler taking it?"

"He's devastated," I whisper. "He wants a baby so much…and I can't give that to him."

She squeezes her arms around me, and it's more comforting than I expected. "What happened?"

I shrug. "He has low motility and I have…an...inhospitable environment." I shudder at those words; I still can't really process them. My mother says nothing for a while; she just rubs my back and let me cry.

"This is my fault," I hear her say, and I look up at her in confusion.

"How?"

"I'm sure you've heard the story of how we thought I was barren until I got pregnant with Ross—"

It takes everything in me not to pull away from her right now. "Yeah, I've heard it. Ross the miracle child."

"You were both miracle children. Imagine being told you'd never have one, and then having two. Just because your brother was first doesn't mean you were any less special or a surprise."

I shake my head, not in the mood to have her put a pretty spin on history. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Well, the tests for these things were a little different back then. At the time, I was told I was barren, and since I wasn't getting pregnant, I had no reason not to believe the doctor. Of course, after I managed to get pregnant twice, there was no real explanation other than they were wrong, and with two small children at home, I didn't have much time to worry about it. But I did go back at some point while you were in high school, and while I don't think 'inhospitable environment' were the exact words said, they were something along those lines. But that was why your father and I had such a difficult time conceiving, and why we only had the two of you. We wanted a bigger family, but…"

"Chandler wanted a big family," I mumble.

"He does?" I notice that she doesn't use past tense like I do, and for some reason, that's encouraging.

I nod, tears falling all over again. "He wanted four kids. We talked about it after we got engaged. And now…"

"Don't think that, darling. Maybe it will be harder for it to happen, but it could still happen. Have you talked to your doctor about it?"

"No; we have an appointment in a few days."

"Have you talked to your friends."

I shake my head slowly. "Chandler and I have sort of sequestered ourselves away, just trying to deal with this. We haven't really felt like talking to anyone."

"You should try—it might help. You have good friends who care about you a lot. You don't have to go through this alone."

I shrug, even though part of me knows she's right. Our friends _do_ care, even if they have a weird way of showing it at times.

"I'm so sorry this is happening to you, Monica; it's not fair. You would be such a wonderful mother."

I pull back and look at my mother in shock. "Really?"

"Of course. You've always been so good with children, and you're so caring and nurturing…"

"I…I didn't think you'd ever noticed."

She just smiles at me and strokes my cheek. "You're my daughter."

"But you always—I mean, you never…"

"You never seemed to need me the way Ross did. Look how young you were when you moved out and started taking care of yourself, or how you managed to lose all that weight completely on your own. You've always been independent; Ross has always been attached to me. Anytime you needed anything, you went to your father. That's just the way it's always been."

I lean my head back against my mother's shoulder, surprised. I'd never thought of myself that way. Not that it excuses the way she's treated me my whole life, but I guess it does make some sense.

"You and Chandler will figure this out," she reassures me. "I know it. You were meant to be a mother, and I have no doubt that he will be a great father. Just remember not to blame yourselves or each other. This isn't anyone's fault; it's just one of those things. And if anyone can get through something as awful as this and come out on the other side stronger, it's the two of you."

"You really think so?" I ask, my voice catching in my throat.

"I've never seen two people who love each other more than you and Chandler. Just talk to each other; any doubts or fears or worries, let him know. And, if you need to, you can always come talk to me."

I never suspected that this would be the thing to bring us closer together, that she would understand exactly what I'm going through. Another sob bubbles out of my throat and I grip my mother tighter as continues to rock me back and forth, my heart still breaking for what I've lost, for what I've never had.

*A/N…I hate the way Judy is portrayed in most fics. Granted, she's pretty horrible to Monica on the show, but most writers turn her in to an absolute monster, so I wanted to avoid that and give the woman a chance to redeem herself as a parent. And what better time than when her daughter just got the worst news of her life?


	3. Chapter 3

I pull Monica closer to me, wrapping both arms around her. She lets out a watery sigh and burrows into me farther, pulling her legs up into a fetal position.

I don't ask her how she's doing. I don't need to.

She's not doing well. Neither of us are.

Finding out that you may never have a baby with your wife…it's not something you just get over.

All she's wanted her whole life is to have kids. She wanted to get married and have babies, and while I know I balked at all of that in the beginning, that's all I want now, too. I want to have kids with Monica. She would be such an outstanding mother, too. She deserves a baby. She deserves a dozen of them. She has so much love to give, so much to offer, so much to teach.

She waited her entire life to be ready for parenthood, to find who she thought would be the right guy…and I can't give her this one simple thing.

It's only been a week since Dr. Connelly gave us the news, and I feel like I'm hemorrhaging. My heart feels like it's been ripped open; my stomach feels like I'm being punched daily. I've cried more this past week than I have my entire life.

We're both trying to be strong for each other, trying to give each other someone to lean on. It's sort of working, though I don't know how strong either of us feel right now.

There are no empty words to give each other right now. We can't say that it's going to be okay because right now, it sure has hell doesn't feel that way.

We have another appointment with the doctor tomorrow; unless he's going to tell us there was massive lab screw up and he gave us the wrong test results, I don't see how anything's going to feel better by talking to him.

Monica lets out a tiny little sob; I can feel her tears soaking through my shirt. This is actually heartbreaking. My wife, the person that I love more than anything else in this world, is in pain and there's absolutely nothing that I can do about it.

I'm the cause of her pain.

I can't give her a baby.

Why the fuck can't I give her a baby?

What are the odds that we'd both have fertility issues?

I mean, seriously. What are the actual odds? I mean, I could see the world looking at me and thinking that maybe I wouldn't be an ideal candidate for procreation, but Monica? Seriously? There's not a person in this world more suited to motherhood than this woman and she has an "inhospitable environment"? What the hell does that even mean?

She shivers and I grab the blanket off the back off the couch, draping it over her. Her fingers tighten against me, but she says nothing.

I know she doesn't blame me for this, but _I_ blame me. I should be able to do this _one thing_ for the person that means more to me than life.

This is hell. This is actually hell.

The only person who knows so far is her mother, and that's only because Monica inexplicably agreed to lunch with her just days after we got the test results. Her emotions were kind of right at the surface. I wasn't able to get all of the details; just that Judy was going on about Ross, and that Monica couldn't take it and snapped, and that Judy somehow coaxed the whole story out of her.

I'm glad she could talk to her mom about this, though. It sounds like her mother had the same issue as Monica does, though, and they managed to produce two kids.

I guess there could be hope for us.

Other than that…no one knows. We haven't been able to talk to our friends about this. It's too much to deal with right now without dealing with everyone's good intentions.

I'm sure we've been freaking everyone out, though. Aside from going to work, we haven't really left the apartment all week. If we're home, the lights are off and the door is locked, chain engaged. We're screening all of our calls. Everyone's left multiple messages, asking about what's going on, if we're okay, all the usual stuff. We just haven't had it in us, though. We're both still trying to process it and nothing makes sense right now.

Everything just feels like shit.

There's a knock at the door and I look up slowly; Monica's head never moves.

"Guys—let us in." Joey. He sounds really concerned.

Gotta love that guy. He's not the brightest star in the sky, but he has a heart of gold.

There's another knock and this time we hear Phoebe's voice. "We're really worried about you two. Please let us in."

I put my cheek back on top of Monica's head and close my eyes.

The doorknob rattles and a moment later the door swings open—we purposely left it unlocked tonight. We both know that we have to talk to them at some point.

It's just not a conversation either of us ever expected to have, so we don't exactly know how to have it. How do you tell people that you can't have kids no matter how much you want them?

"Monica? Chandler?" Ross this time. "You guys here?"

I'd roll my eyes if I thought I had the energy for it. Instead, I just sigh, my hands gently squeezing Monica.

Neither of us say anything.

We can hear footsteps making their way across the room, the floorboards creaking, and then silence. I open my eyes slowly and see our friends in front of us, worried expressions on their faces.

"What's going on?" Ross asks, and I shift my eyes away. Part of me really wants to tell them but…it feels like it'll make it real. I can almost convince myself that it's all a bad dream if I don't tell anyone.

"Guys, you're really freaking us out," Phoebe says, sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

Suddenly, Rachel's sitting next to Phoebe, her hand reaching to grab Monica's arm—I don't know what she saw, but it was enough to scare her. "Oh, my God; Monica, are you okay?"

I feel Monica's body tense for a few seconds before her tears hit my skin once more. She shakes as she cries and I rub her back, trying my best to soothe her.

Joey sits down on the arm of the chair, looking floored and confused, but says nothing. Ross stands on the other side of the table, the expression on his face completely helpless as he watches his sister cry.

I understand that completely.

"Mon?" Phoebe asks softly. "Chandler?"

I tilt my head and look down at my wife, trying to get her attention. She sighs and looks up at me, her red eyes making the blue of her irises a truly startling shade, the pain she's feeling all too obvious. She nods her head just a fraction before resting her cheek against my chest again.

"Umm." I clear my throat, surprised as how dry and raspy I sound. "Monica and I went to the doctor last week."

Rachel's face falls, and I can only imagine where her mind is going. "Oh, no," she whispers. "Please don't tell me that you guys lost a baby…"

Wow—I hadn't considered that as a possibility. Just thinking about it makes my already broken heart crack even further. I can tell it doesn't do much for Monica, either, if the way her nails dig into my side is any indication.

"No," I whisper. "We…we went for fertility tests. It turns out that…" I stop for a moment, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. When I open my eyes again, the faces of my friends are blurry from my tears. "It turns out that we'll probably never be able to have a baby."

Rachel's hand goes to her mouth as she gasps. Phoebe's eyes fill with tears and she launches herself at us, wrapping her arms around as much of us as she can. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"Thank you," Monica answers, burying her face in our friend's neck. Rachel sniffles and joins in the hug, too.

"I…I don't know what to say," Ross says, and I look up at him. His face is pale and he looks kind of shaky. "What happened?"

Monica pulls out of our mass hug, folding herself back into me. "I have an inhospitable environment," she answers, her voice tired and scratchy.

"What does that even mean?" Rachel asks, looking devastated.

We both shrug. "I don't really know," Monica answers, and my hand find hers, holding on tightly. "We go back to the doctor tomorrow."

"Why did you wait so long to tell us?" Joey asks, looking genuinely distraught, and I rub my eyes tiredly.

"We needed some time to try to figure all of this out. And we didn't know what to say."

Phoebe reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing gently, her eyes bright with tears. She opens her mouth, trying to find the right words, but just shakes her head sadly. "I know," I tell her softly.

"But…you're Chandler and Monica," Joey says, standing up. "This isn't supposed to happen to you guys. You're supposed to have a million babies and live happily ever after."

Monica's chin quivers and her eyes fill with tears. "Believe me, Joey, I wish this wasn't happening."

He puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry, guys. I'm so, so sorry."

Ross moves to sit on the coffee table next to Rachel. He reaches out and puts a hand on Monica's leg, squeezing gently. "Do you guys need anything?"

Monica's mouth quirks up a little, and it's the first time I've seen anything close to a smile in days. "I don't know yet."

"Well, whatever we can do," Phoebe assures us, and everyone nods eagerly, eyes full of compassion and pain.

Joey throws himself at me suddenly and I let out an "ooph." In an instant, we're surrounded by our friends, all of them hugging us and whispering words of sympathy, all of them trying to take our pain and make it their own.

I think we both forgot just how great our friends can be, and just how much it helps to know that they're just there for us when we really need them.

For the first time all week, I feel the tiniest glimmer of hope. I don't know what will happen at the doctor's tomorrow; I don't know if he'll have some sort of solution for us, and I don't know how we'll handle whatever is to come. All I do know is that our friends—our family—is here for us, no matter what the outcome. The pain isn't less, but knowing we have our friends makes my heart just a little less heavy.


End file.
